Du Fyrn eor Jierda du Aftaka
by Luferius
Summary: This story follows the trials of new Rider Heldthin, an elf who managed to hatch the egg belonging to Laufsblad. The central plot revolves around Heldthin and Laufsblad as they seek to aid the Riders in their time of crisis against "Du Aftaka Skulblaka", a group of spellcasters that have found a way to kill a Rider and subjugate their dragon, stealing the Rider's former powers.


Sparks flew as two blades clashed, each of an opposing irredescant color. As quickly as they clashed, they were withdrawn once more and met again high above the combatants' heads. Sweat sheened on the brow of both fighters, numerous minor lacerations plagueing their countenance and other areas. Both were evenly matched in terms of strength and speed, an Elf and a human meeting in deathly mortal combat. How the human before the Elf had gained such power that he was able to match him in the mortal dance of battle, the noble minded rider could not fathom. All he knew was that an unspeakable rage coursed through his body at the mere perversion of the natural order of things.

No human had been able to match an Elf in combat in history, much less an Elven Rider such as he save for a single exception. The long-time leader of his order, Eragon Shadeslayer. Through the events of the dragons' machinations during the Agaeti Blodhram long ago, Eragon had gained the beauty of an alfakyn, along with many of the attributes of the fair folk, though his beauty was a tad rougher than that of the alfa. Once, twice, thrice, and then many more times, the Elf known as Heldthin clashed blades with the man only known as the newest bane to Alagaesia's peaceful tidings. "Du aftaka Skulblaka". The Dragon Thief. Somehow, some way, this man had managed to steal a Dragon from his Rider, along with his blade and apparently his skill and ability to perform gramarye. Once more, Heldthin scoffs internally at the thought of such a perverse situation. It rankled his bones and caused his fair countenance to twist into a snarl rarely displayed by the alfakyn. As their blades lock once more, Heldthin draws strength from his dragon, Laufsblad. Gathering his mental resources briefly, the young Rider thrusts his consciousness forth as he twists his eldritch green blade in a complicated maneveur to lock his foe's sword.

Attempting to pierce his way through the Dragon Thief's mental barriers and gain prominence over his foe, sweat continues to pour down Heldthin's visage in a copious manner, the salt from his perspiration stinging his eyes. However, he refused to let it inconvenience him. For some time, he and his foe remain still, grappling with each other in a desperate struggle. Slamming his foot down upon his foe's instep in a last ditch attempt to break his opponent's concentration, Heldthin is rewarded with the sound of crunching bones beneath his boot. The gambit had been risky, for it had taken a minor lapse in concentration to do it. However, the Thief was not as experienced in the ways of invading another's mind as he, and his disadvantage turned into a clearly favorable wind. His foe's concentration broken, Heldthin thrusts further into the core of the other combatant's mind, seeking out the secret as to how this man... This thief. This breaker of oaths and scum of the Earth, had managed to defeat an Urgal Rider and steal his dragon...

However, the outcome shall be revealed in time. This is the story of Heldthin, an Elf of but 40 years old. Young by his race and the dwarves' standards, but on the cusp of middle age to the races with less longevity. A mere two years prior, Heldthin was bonded with the emerald dragon, Laufsblad. Once Laufsblad was three months old, he and his newly christened Rider were sent overseas, outside of Alagaesia to train with the new generation of Riders. It has been 70 years since the fall of Galbatorix. And while the land was not without strife, it was relatively peaceful. The elves had once more opened Du Weldenvarden to the other races, training Riders of all bound races for three months before sending them to the mighty Shadeslayer, who by some force of misfortune was unable to return to the continent that was his home. This story reveals the trials and tribulations of not a human Rider, but an Elf. One who is so inexplicably tied to the fate of the lands that he realizes it not.

Once more, we find our young Rider, a scant year younger as he is once more sheened in perspiration. Before him stood a more experienced, fully fledged Rider of Urgal descent. The thick musk of the massive Kull fills Heldthin's sensitive nose, but no signs of perspiration seemed to plague him. Being one of the more powerful Riders in terms of strength and ingenuity in battle, he had been named the Sveldbrithl. The Blademaster of the Dragon Riders. Known for using magic and blade in congruity with one another, Karska had inordinate amounts of stamina, even for one of Ugrulga descent. Enough to wear Heldthin ragged after six consecutive hours of sparring with magic-dulled blades. And fantastic blades, they were.

Even with the multitude of swords from Riders past, there were still too few to equip the influx of new Riders with a proper blade. Twenty years prior to current events, Rhunon, the creator of the Riders' blades decided that her life held no more meaning. In order to aid the Riders as she did in life before the Fall, she sang her essence into a chunk of brighsteel, the only left in the land. How she did it remains unknown to all but one, for the song she used was heard by none save for Queen Arya. Passing the secrets of her craft to one of the two youngest of the elves, Rhunon was now honored as a vassal to carry new swords to their Riders, for she now lived in the essence of all new blades cast from brightsteel. Her hard, enduringly sharp mind had melded seamlessly into the brightsteel, expanding the negligible block that would have only equipped three more Riders into a larger block ten meters around that replenished itself after ore was cut from it. This, along with the new Bladesmith twins Allana and Dusan, forged a new era of glory for the Riders.

"You fight without seeing, young ram. Are you certain you have the ability required to take the trials in two months time?" The question from Karska was pointed, designed to inflame one's sense of pride. Of course, Heldthin was preparing to take the new trials of the Riders. Each one was more rigorous than the last, the first being to complete the Rimgar, consisting of four more trials that their leader and his dragon devised. The last three trials were never the same, for when it came to ingenuity and originality, Eragon and Saphira were more than capable. Rather than become incensed at the Blademaster's remarks, Heldthin shakes his head lightly before speaking in the ancient language. "Yes, ebrithril. Make no mistake that I will land a telling blow upon you before my trials arrive." As if to prove a point, Heldthin adopts a defensive stance designed for outfighting and counters, in order to keep the massive Kull at bay with his blade. He knew that while he was a fair swordsman, Karska and his massive amethyst blade "Domia" were more than capable of crushing him with nary a thought. Which was why Karska had taken Eragon's place as instructor of the blades, so that their leader could attend to more pressing matters and more subtle training. Though often times, Eragon made note of Riders with potential and offered them training in various aspects.

Heldthin had indeed received training from the Odrbrithril, or "Grand Master" before in the arts of elemental transformation when casting magic. Something Heldthin excelled at. As if remembering his lessons with the Odrbrithril, Heldthin reaches into his stores of magic and stamina, drawing them forth for use against the hulking Kull. Releasing his hold upon the hilt of his blade with his right hand, prefering to use his left when swinging one-handed, Heldthin utters a barely audible word in the ancient language. "Kveykva". Mentally programming it to discharge at his command, Heldthin dashes forth towards the Kull, who raises his blade in response to Heldthin's next slash... Which happened to be a feint. Using his forward momentum, Heldthin turns his blade aside at the last second, twisting around and placing his hand firmly upon the Kull's left thigh and discharging the electric spell he had incanted earlier. The effect is instantaneous, as is the sudden flagging in Heldthin's strength. Without his dragon to lend him strength, lightning transformations were arguably the most taxing thing on his energy reserves, for it required him to manually ionize the oxygen in the air and grind it together to create a current. A jolt of raw eldritch green energy rushes through the Kull, paralyzing him for a moment. Apparently for all his foresight in battle, the Kull had neglected to ward himself against electricity based assaults.

Taking advantage of this, Heldthin uses the last of his stamina to aim a heavy stroke across the Blademaster's chest. His aim was straight and true, for his dulled edge strikes a moment after his swing, creating an angry bruise on the Urgal's chiseled torso. Grunting in pain from what would have normally been a death blow, and still had a chance to crack the bones in his chest without armor, the Kull stumbles back, his blade skittering to the ground. As Heldthin's spell wears off, and the Urgal finds himself able to move again, he rises from his position on the ground, standing to his monstrous height of eight feet and placing his right hand in a twisted fashion over his chest. "I have been bested, Heldthin-finniriel. You have my blessing to attend the trials. Eragon Obrithril will be pleased that you have secured your final blessing." Sighing with relief, the elven Rider allows himself a small smile. Exchanging pleasantries for a few minutes longer with the Blademaster, Heldthin excuses himself so that he might visit his chambers and rest his weary bones.

It had been a long, hard day. Reaching out for Laufsblad with his mind, they share the events that had transpired. Indeed, Laufsblad had gained clearance from his own tutors to proceed with the trials. Now began the most important part of their lives up to this point. The two months that would pass before the tribulations of their trials would be long, and tough. Generally, it took a Rider five years to complete their training. However, exceptions were made for Alfakyn as they already knew of spellcasting and its dangers and rigors. As such, they were able to progress much faster than humans, dwarves, and Urgals.'I am proud, little one'. Laufsblad's voice reverbated throughout his Rider's skull in a deep baritone, a testament to the growth he had gone through in the past year. Now standing many heads above Heldthin, Laufsblad was a long, thin dragon with corded muscle that rippled when he moved, even beneath his irredescant scales. He was built for flying at great speeds, and was quite agile, requiring little more than a few hours to master a new aerobatic technique. Such flying talent was not rare, but it was also not uncommon either. However, the best flier of the dragons remained the title of their leader's dragon, Saphira.

As they exchange the events of their day through a basic mind melding process, Heldthin's heart swells with an unspoken pride as he watches Laufsblad best Murtagh's crimson, monstrously large dragon, Thorn in a rather hectic game of tag. Murtagh had rejoined the Riders in full twelve years after the fall of Galbatorix, seeking to teach the new Riders how to avoid becoming like Galbatorix, the Wyrdfel, and even himself. And it showed. No Riders had any aspirations of such treachery after Murtagh passed them, and they new for a fact that Murtagh or any of the Elders could best them in combat if necessary. As he watches Laufsblad's second trial, he notes that he had trained with Karska's dragon Nagz on the art of ground combat. It was a necessary skill for dragons, as if something happened to their wings, they'd be forced to fight upon the ground rather than the air. However, Nagz hadn't stopped there. Being of a philosophical mind, a sharp contrast to his battle loving Rider, Nagz had drilled his pupil on diplomacy, a skill taught to dragons as well as Riders. A dragon had to be able to find a plausible solution without bloodshed as well as his or her Rider for if they became separated, they would have to work independant of one-another. Indeed, they were both cleared by all of their instructors to proceed. The fact that they could share information amongst one another with relative ease made it so that they could properly prepare for their trials.

After a while, Laufsblad excuses himself from his Rider's presence, seeking a long nap to recuperate from the strenuous events of the day. At the same time, Heldthin takes a long draught of restorative Faelnirv before tending to his bruises and preparing himself for his own nap. However, it seemed the fates had another idea. A knock upon the door to his quarters causes him to jolt from the stupor that was already settling in over his fatigued body. Elves did not sleep in the traditional sense. More like they entered a waking hibernation akin to meditation but on a subconscious level. Extending his awareness to the door, he identifies the source of the disturbance. Granting entrance to his visitor with a phrase, Heldthin utters, "Come in, Aliciea."

At these words, a young ginger-haired human girl of about sixteen enters the room. A smile plays across her lips as she closes the door behind her, greeting him in the usual fashion as was respectful. Aliciea had been away on a diplomatic mission to Alagaesia to convene with the new King. While the current leader of the former Empire was Nasuada and Murtagh's grandson, he possessed no magical abilities other than the uncanny intelligence of both his grandparents and the ability to invade and conquer other minds. Depite this, he was a gentle hearted soul. Nasuada had passed away ten years after Heldthin's birth. He had remembered that it had marked a tone of sorrow for his people, for their queen had been close to the Varden's former leader. Murtagh had been devastated by her death, simply because he did not age the same way she did. In terms of looks, Murtagh appeared to have only aged about four years whereas Nasuada had been in her sixties when she passed. Their son had taken over, being the son of the Queen and a Rider. Albeit, a Rider who had caused strife for the Varden before. Murtagh had seemed slightly upset that his offspring had not been chosen as Riders by any of the dragons, but he also saw it as a blessing. Better that they were born fit to rule, rather than born with the power and potential to become a Rider, which was more dangerous than being a King or a Queen.

After the pleasantries had been dispensed, Aliciea states, "My final trial was a success. I'm the first human to qualify for and pass the trials in such a short amount of time. Three years." Offering his congratulations to his friend, Heldthin can't help but find a stab of annoyance with her. She'd awoken him to brag that she was a Rider before him. While it was honestly a trifling matter, he'd wanted to rest. That and the fact that she seemed to have a crush on him was another issue. She wasn't unattractive. Not in the slightest. She was actually quite beautiful for a human and her bond with her dragon had caused her to become even more so due to the slightly elvish features that adorned her now. Human Riders in the past had not developed more than pointed ears, albeit less prominent than those of elves. However, the Dragons' magic had been slowly working its way through the humans, and while they were neither as fast or strong as elves, they still hummed with magic and had their natural attributes increased. They would eventually be the equal of the elves but not for at least another three centuries or more. Human spellcasters of great magical potency were rather more common now than 70 years ago. It was indeed due to Eragon's expansion of the pact with the Dragons to other races. Somehow, it had refined and increased the bond with humans.

As such, Aliciea now resembled an Elf as much as she resembled a human as well. However, their age discrepancy was too great. By her race's standards, Heldthin was old enough to be her father, and by his she was little more than a child. Under different circumstances, he'd take her in a heartbeat for she was charming, quick witted and very pretty. However, Heldthin had his eye on an Elvish maid. Aliciea knew this, and respected it. But it did not stop her from trying to win him over with her own admittedly potent wiles. For some time more they spoke, mainly about her trials. But Heldthin kept little of it in mind. It would not do to speculate on what his tasks would be in two months. He needed only to prepare for the best and the worst. After some time, the sun set over the lands that the Riders occupied, and Aliciea left to shower and eat after her journey. Alone once more, Heldthin drifts off to the land of waking dreams, sharing images of Laufsblad's slumber in his hibernative trance.

Author's Notes: Hello, and welcome to the first installment of "Du Fyrn eor Jiera Du Aftaka". This is a rough transliteration into the Ancient Language of, "The War To Break the Thieves". There's probably some grammatical mistakes there as far as Paolini's official ancient language, but he never exsplains how the grammatical structure works beyond "Du Vrangr Gata" being incorrect. I believe this MIGHT entail that it is similar to languages of Turkish origin in the fact that nouns come before verbs. Sorry if the chapter is a little short. If anyone can verify this, please let me know. Be sure to leave a review if you like it. Or even if you hate it. Flaming, good reviews, trolling, constructive criticism... They're all welcome in my eyes. If you like it though, follow me. I'm out for now, and will probably update as often as my schedule permits. Atra esterní ono thelduin.


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